


Remedy

by footielover



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comfort Sex, El Clásico, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/footielover/pseuds/footielover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Open the door Cristiano. Please. I know you’re in there“, he hears the person he wants to see both most and least in this world saying. Fucking Leo Messi.</p><p>After el Clásico, Cristiano gets an unwanted guest. Or is he really unwanted?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Adele's gorgeous song of the same name.

_When the pain cuts you deep_

_When the night keeps you from sleeping_

_Just look and you will see_

_That I will be your remedy_

 

Cristiano is sitting in his own bedroom, back leaning against the door, long legs outstretched before him. What a complete disaster this game had been. Nil -  Four. Four - Nil. He can still hear the relentless boos of the Madridistas in his ears. All he wanted after the game was to be alone, and so he hadn’t even bothered to shower and left the Bernabeu short after the final whistle with a ruffle of James hair and the promise to call Marcelo tomorrow (“So I know you haven’t killed yourself, bro“). And so he drove home with a speed that could have costed him his license and had locked himself into his bedroom.

The sound of the fans whistles are now being accompanied with mental images of every chance he had failed to actually turn into a goal today. Cristiano groans and covers his eyes with his hands. If he just had made that goal shortly after the half-time break, maybe they could have at least drawn the game. But no, instead of lobbing the ball into the net, he had to practically shoot Bravo on the head. What a load of crap. He is so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice the footsteps nearing on the other side of the door, but then a loud knock and very familiar voice cut through the silence.

“Open the door Cristiano. Please. I know you’re in there“, he hears the person he wants to see both most and least in this world saying. Fucking Leo Messi.

\- - -

Leo quickly types in the code at Cristiano’s door lock and turnes around for one last look before closing the door behind him. He is pretty sure that nobody saw him, but better to be safe than sorry. **_“Leo Messi gloating at Cristiano Ronaldo’s home after 0:4 victory at el Clásico“_**   isn’t the headline he wants to read in every newspaper tomorrow.

The house is completely dark and eerily quiet. If he hadn’t seen Cristiano’s car in the driveway he might believe that nobody is home, but he saw the Portuguese storm out of the player’s area of the Bernabeu and he knows Cristiano only too well. The man is proud and wants to be alone right now to be able to feel guilty and blame himself for the defeat in peace, but Leo won’t stand for that. Yes, Cristiano didn't score, but Real lost because they were poorly managed, their defense was mostly non-existent, and their offense just suffered from both of those factors. That Barcelona is in outstanding form and Luis and Ney are pretty much unstoppable at the moment didn't help either.

After he finds the huge living room is empty, his feet find the way to Cristiano’s bedroom without conscious thought, having been in his house countless times before. He takes a deep breath and knocks on the door: “Open the door Cristiano. Please. I know you’re in there“.

His words are met with stubborn silence, but he can hear Cristiano shift against the door so he knows he’s actually in there. “Come on, open up! I need to talk to you about something.“ Again no answer. Leo sighs. Well, there’s nothing he can do, he has to haul out the big guns. He’s so going to regret this at some point in the future, but what doesn’t he do for the man who is the love of his life? “It’s my knee, cariño. I might - “, but he doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before he can hear the click of the door being unlocked and suddenly he is faced with a very pale looking Cristiano.

“What? What happened? Have you torn the ligament again? But how? After the game?“, he says, sounding slightly panicked and looking Leo up and down. And yes, Leo really is regretting his decision already, but at least Cristiano opened the door so his bad conscience is worth it. When Cristiano is able to rip his worried eyes from Leo’s left knee, he immediately spots the Argentine’s guilty facial expression. “You bastard! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your damn knee!“, he yells and tries to close the door again, but Leo’s too fast and get his foot in the door.

And he is fully aware of the fact that Cristiano is angry at him, and rightfully so, but he knows he would never risk injuring Leo by shutting that door and so he just walks straight into the bedroom. Cristiano is glaring daggers at him, but doesn’t really do anything to keep him from entering. Leo ends up settling in the huge armchair in the corner, because he’s pretty sure that Cristiano’s mood wouldn’t exactly improve if the sits down on the bed.

He looks at Cristiano, noticing again how pale he looks considering the dark tan he’s sporting and sees the tension in his body and the sadness and anger in his eyes, some of it directed at Leo, some of it at Cristiano himself. He contemplates what to say, but then he knows best that nothing he could say would change the fact that Madrid lost, the whole team had been humiliated and Cristiano left the pitch to the whistles of the audience.

And so he looks Cristiano directly in the eyes and just spreads his arms in invitation. Cristiano doesn’t move at first, but at least returns Leo’s look, probably checking it for any sign of pity. Leo can see the inner conflict in his eyes: His boyfriend is a very proud man and hates to lose, but who wouldn’t want comfort after the day he had? After what feels like hours to Leo, the sadness in Cristiano seems to win against the anger and disappointment and he makes a few hesitant steps towards Leo, stopping before the armchair.

“If you say one word about the game, I will kill you, is that clear?“, his tone practically daring Leo to object, but the Argentine simply nods and spreads his arms some more. With one last huff, Cristiano settles down on Leo’s lap, long legs winding around the younger man’s waist, and wraps his arms around him before hiding his face in Leo’s neck. Leo embraces him just as tightly, feeling the tension practically radiating from every pore of Cristiano’s body. He kisses the Portuguese’ neck tenderly, before running his hands down the other man’s back in an attempt to soothe him.

His boyfriend still smells like grass and sweat and if the situation was different, Leo would probably be pretty aroused already. He was easy like that, even after 2 years together. After some time he feels Cristiano relax bit by bit, his body moulding into Leo’s perfectly now, even though his embrace doesn’t ease up one bit. He even starts to shiver as the adrenaline rush starts to wear off, and Leo trying to rub some warmth into his muscles doesn’t seem to help at all. Leo reluctantly breaks the silence and runs his hands through Cristiano’s hair to get his attention.

“Come on cariño, you need a shower and some warm clothes.“ When he doesn’t get a reaction, not that he really expected one, he sighs, simply tightens his grip on Cristiano’s waist and stands up with some difficulty. That at least earns him an indignant squeal, but Cristiano’s muscly thighs are strengthening their hold: “Leo! Are you insane?? Let me down, you’ll hurt your knee again!“

“Stop struggling and shut up, or we’re both ending up with something broken, and I’m not the one explaining it to the clubs!“, Leo pants as he carries Cristiano the only about four meters to the adjoining bathroom, where he thanks the heavens that the door is already open. He’s stronger than he looks, but his boyfriend isn’t exactly an lightweight. Muscles actually weigh more than fat, you know. So he’s actually pretty glad when he sets Cristiano down on the edge of the huge tub and both of them still have all their limbs.

“Strip!“, is the only thing he says before he walks to the huge glass shower to turn the water on, checking the temperature until he deems it warm enough. When he turns back around and sees Cristiano is still fully dressed in his Real Madrid track bottoms and longsleeve, he isn’t really surprised. The fight had left Cristiano’s body, and where he saw anger and sadness before, the anger was fully replaced by sadness now. There is still some dirt and grass on face, and he looks so small that it breaks Leo’s heart. He loves winning, and especially against Madrid, but that victory tastes more bitter than sweet right now. And so he simply pulls Cristiano’s shirt over his head, the Portuguese lifting his arms automatically to help before he gets down on his knees and starts to pull of Cristiano’s socks.

That seems rip the other man from his thoughts and he lays his hand on Leo’s arm, motioning him to stop and stand up. Leo complies and watches as Cristiano gets up from the tub on somewhat shaky feet and pulls down his pants and underwear in one go before stepping under the stream. Leo gathers the dirty clothes from the floor to throw them in the hamper in the corner of the room, but Cristiano’s quiet voice stops him: “Aren’t you coming?“

He stills, not sure that it would be the best decision to get in the shower with Cristiano right now, but as he takes in Cristiano’s naked form, body already glistening, eyes pleading as he stretches his right arm towards him, he doesn’t find the strength in him to deny his boyfriend anything, comfort most of all. So his clothes add to the pile of the others on the floor and he quickly joins Cristiano under the stream, strong arms closing around him immediately and pulling him flush against the Portuguese’ body. And there goes his plan to stay unaroused and keep this absolutely asexual in mere seconds. He can’t help it, it’s like a pavlovian reflex: As soon as he feels Cristiano’s smooth skin against his, he gets hard, arousal blooming almost painfully in his belly. But he can ignore it, and he will, for Cristiano’s sake.

So he steels his resolve once more, tells his dick to behave and hugs back, his hands starting to caress Cristiano’s shoulders and then soothe down his back again, their way eased by the water running down and leaving droplets on Cristiano’s tanned skin. He looks up to his boyfriend (fucking height difference), wanting to check in if this is still alright, but Cristiano’s eyes are closed, his head turned to the ceiling. At least he doesn’t shiver anymore and so Leo blindly reaches for the shower gel, squirts some on his fingers, and starts washing Cristiano, limb by limb. His arms come first, and Leo tries to pour all the love he feels for this unbelievable, incredible, beautiful man in his touch, kissing Cristiano’s fingertips tenderly as he reaches his hands.

Somehow this smallest of caresses breaks Cristiano out of his rigidity, and he leans down to press his lips against Leo’s, the kiss a bit too hard, a bit too forceful to feel natural. “Please fuck me. Please querido. You know I need it hard like only you can give me“, Cristiano moans, barely moving his mouth away, and of course the Portuguese completely aware of the affect this usually has on the younger man.

And if this was any other night, Leo really would have his fingers in Cristiano in a flash and sink into his tight heat shortly after, but tonight just isn’t like any other night, and so he won’t. Fucking him after what happened only two hours before would be wrong for a number of reasons, and wouldn’t help any of them in this situation. It would feel good physically, of course it would, but afterwards they would both feel like shit. Leo because he gave in to the temptation and only thought about himself, and Cristiano because he thought he deserved to be used as a fuck toy, as Leo’s personal victory prize.

Cristiano obviously mistakes his silence for hesitation, and his next words only confirm Leo’s suspicions. “Come on, I want it. No need to prep me, just get on it!“, he says urgently, as if there is any way in hell that Leo would actually do that. Leo’s heart hurts suddenly. Oh, he had fucked Cristiano after many wins against other teams, but these were always occasions where Cristiano ‘rewarded’ him for playing good and it had always been playful and fun, both of them knowing full well that they would have had sex even if Leo had lost. So he definitely won’t fuck him because the other man feels he needs punishment for losing today - he knows in his gut that that would never end well and only get them on a dangerous path.

But there are many, many other ways to help Cristiano to forget a little, and Leo is planning on using every single one of them. Sometimes one of them forgot that winning or losing a football game isn’t the most important thing in the world, even if it might feel like it, and today it’s Leo’s turn to remind Cristiano, just like the other man had done for him many times before. Leo is determined to make his boyfriend feel as good as he possibly can, and if Leo sets his mind on something, he usually succeeds with flying colors. Besides, he knows Cristiano’s body as well as his own by now and knows exactly what makes the other man writhe and moan in pleasure. So there really nothing in his way to stop him from turning Cristiano into a boneless mess on the floor.

This thought in mind, he pulls Cristiano’s head down with a firm hand in his hair and stares directly into Cristiano’s wide eyes: “I won’t fuck you, hard or otherwise, because you think it’s some kind of humiliation or punishment you deserve after losing. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t make love to you - because I will and you will let me!“

Cristiano’s eyes widen and Leo decides it’s best not to give him any time to protest and starts kissing his neck, alternating between sucking softly and biting down at the purpling skin with some force. Usually, he would be careful not to leave marks, but he knows Cristiano secretly loves them and it’s November, nobody will be suspicious if he wears a scarf to cover them. And alright, maybe he loves seeing Cristiano wearing his marks too. Who wouldn’t? If they will finally keep that Colombian puppy from staring at Cristiano like he was the sun and the stars it’ll only be an added bonus. There. He thought it.

But now isn’t the time for needless jealousy, and so Leo focusses on the task ahead, not that it’s hard with miles of Cristiano’s gloriously naked skin on display in front of him. His free hand glides up on Cristiano’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake and he starts to circle his nipple teasingly. After the delicious gasp Cristiano lets out at that, Leo’s mouth leaves his neck with one last bite. He admires his handiwork for a second, then palms his cock quickly to gain some relief. Cristiano’s hands, which were resting on Leo’s shoulders before, now sneak down his chest, their destination obvious, but Leo bats them away.

“No touching, is that clear? This isn’t about me“, he reminds him, voice calm but commanding. Cristiano pouts at that but obeys, and at last there is a sign of the Cristiano Leo wants to see. The proud, bratty, preening one, who can’t keep his hands to himself for two seconds during sex and moans shamelessly loud to rile Leo up and make him blush so hard it reaches his chest. That one glimpse only spurs Leo on more, and he ushers Cristiano against the wall as gently as he can, one hand against the man’s broad chest, the other cradling his head. As he looks up to him, face still wearing that petulant expression, he can’t resist and presses a soft kiss to Cristiano’s mouth. He can feel that pout changing into a smile on his lips, and with a last peck, he moves his mouth downwards, peppers kisses to that gorgeous neck where bruises start to bloom and to that broad, muscular chest he can spend hours running his fingers and mouth over. When he starts sucking on Cristiano’s nipple, he hears a short intake of breath, but otherwise the Portuguese is uncharacteristically quiet.

Leo looks forward to changing that, and without further ado he sinks to his knees carefully (injuring himself by tripping in a shower wouldn’t do right now). He starts massaging those strong thighs, pressing kisses against Cristiano’s knees, his calves, the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs - shortly he puts his mouth everywhere but where he knows Cristiano truly wants it. He teases him until the Portuguese stands on very wobbly legs and Leo can see the precome dripping from Cristiano’s now rigid cock. And so he shows some mercy and simply asks: “You want me to suck you, don’t you?“

Normally, Leo would make the Portuguese beg some more, for both of their enjoyment, but he’s actually as desperate to make Cristiano feel good as Cristiano is to forget everything and lose himself into the sensation of Leo’s mouth on him, and so he wastes no time, grabs the base of his cock and swallows the man down. He starts bobbing down Cristiano’s length smoothly, tongue caressing the tip every so often, but doesn’t apply any real suction to finally get a reaction from that stubborn man - but he’s only partly successful if the twitching of Cristiano’s hips is anything to go by. He moans prettily, of course he does, but that’s not enough for Leo. So he reluctantly pulls off and looks up to Cristiano, who is watching him with his mouth slightly open, panting from the effort of holding himself back, of denying him the pleasure he so clearly craves.

“Take your pleasure, come on. You need it, and you deserve it, you always do“, Leo whispers and takes him back in his mouth, relaxing his jaw and throat. Cristiano returns his gaze, still hesitant, his eyes searching Leo's for something he apparently finds, because he then begins to thrust his hips shallowly, and when Leo moves his hands from the Portuguese hips to his ass to spur him on, he finally lets go and starts fucking Leo’s mouth in earnest. He isn’t a particularly gifted deepthroater, and so he chokes a bit from time to time, but with Cristiano losing control and brabbling breathlessly in Portuguese how good Leo is taking him, how much he loves his mouth (he isn’t exactly fluid in the language, but you pick things up after two years of regular blowjobs), it only turns him on even more.

Sensing that Cristiano is close shortly after as the taste of precome on his tongue is getting stronger and stronger, Leo sneaks his right hand between Cristiano’s cheeks, circles his entrance to relax him a bit and glides one wet finger inside his unresisting body, pressing upwards relentlessly. That’s all it takes for Cristiano’s tightly wound up body to finally find release, and the Portuguese moans so very loudly as he comes in long spurts down Leo’s throat. A smile graces Leo’s lips as he pulls off, some semen he wasn’t fast enough to swallow dribbling down his chin. He couldn’t care less: Exactly that sound of pleasure is what he wanted to hear from Cristiano all along and the satisfaction of actually getting him out of him is immense.

Before he knows it, Cristiano hoists him to his feet and plunders his mouth, moaning again as he tastes himself on Leo’s tongue, clearly savoring it. Leo is painfully hard by now, and in a perfect replica of his earlier motion, Cristiano bats his hands away as he wants to bring himself off. Three, four strokes of Cristiano’s wickedly talented hand and a quite vicious bite to his neck and Leo climaxes with a hearty groan against Cristiano’s lips, come splattering the other man’s hand and their bellies.

They both sink to the floor and lean their backs against the wall, their legs too unsteady to hold them up any more. His heart is pounding wildly in his chest and his neck is throbbing (deserved payback, the older man looks like he was mauled, so in comparison he actually got away lightly), but he feels much lighter, a huge weight lifted off his chest. Mission accomplished, he thinks, and thanks God for central heating as the warm water continues to stream over them, rinsing some of the semen on their skin away.

After their erratic breathing has calmed down a bit and Leo’s eyelids are already dangerously heavy he feels a hand take his. “I love you, querido“, Cristiano says, Portuguese accent thick like only an amazing orgasm and total exhaustion can make it. Leo just smiles, too tired to open his eyes properly. “I know. I love you too. But I still won’t lose on purpose in the future.“

When he feels Cristiano hitting his chest with the last strength that is left in his exhausted body, he knows the other man will be alright. Leo exaggerates his groan of pain a bit to stroke Cristiano’s ego and pulls the man into a bruising kiss. They will be alright, tomorrow and after the last Clásico they’ll play against each other. He can feel it in his bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Too soon?


End file.
